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NOW THRICE WELCOME CHRISTMAS
Now thrice welcome, Christmas,
Which brings us good cheer,
Minc'd pies and plum-porridge,
Good ale and strong beer;
With pig, goose, and capon,
The best that can be,
So well doth the weather
And our stomachs agree.
Observe how the chimneys
Do smoke all about,
The cooks are providing
For dinner, no doubt;
But those on whose tables
No victuals appear,
O may they keep Lent
All the rest of the year!
With holly and ivy
So green and so gay;
We deck up our houses
As fresh as the day,
With bays and rosemary
And laurel complete,
And every one now
Is a king in conceit.
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Have a triple-decker sandwich
Of leftover bacon on rye;
Lots of, ugh, mutton chops
("It's hamburger pie!");
Dessert: Apple pudding
And, wow, mangosteen!
("Yuck! Why only show Mrs.
Santa's corner cuisine?"}
Hear a thrice-told tale
On hangovers, constant pain.
("Let's now bomb the pubs...
I've a mammoth migraine!")
Don't drink the eggnog;
Alcohol shot's a bore.
("Yes! Bring hot, rich cocoa!")
Smashed herds we abhor!
Have a three-day weekend;
Out with all this cheer!
("Let's practice some yoga,
I'd like more silence here.")
Decidedly you're alone now,
Away, past the crowd.
You need a rest, but sigh...
("Soon snow has to be plowed!")
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